Death Bed or: The reason film was invented

'Ello, you lucky people!

People see movies for one of two reasons: A) They think it looks good or 2) They think it looks fucked up. Granted, the former is more common, the latter does play heavily into choice of viewing and usually people who see movies based on their fucked-upitude are far less disappointed. You go to see a movie thinking it'll be good, and it isn't, you're going to be upset, surely. But, if you go to see a move thinking it'll be fucked up, it almost always is. Do you think anyone went to see "Snakes on a Plane" because they thought it'd be good cinema? No, of course not. They went because it looked fucked up, and it was. I was not in the least disappointed with that horrible film, and it certainly was atrocious, because it lived up to my expectations of crap.

With that in mind, this blog will focus on one of the most fucked up (and horribly stupid) movies I've ever seen: Death Bed: The Bed That Eats. I had the extreme good fortune to watch this movie last night. I had been calling it Death Bed: The Bed That Eats People but the actual screen title ends at "Eats." I'm not sure if I like the real title as much. At any rate, the title is what drew me to it. I like titles of this nature, ones that let you know exactly what you're going to get. Texas Chain Saw Massacre is another good example. With a title like Death Bed: The Bed That Eats, you're left with a mental image and you can only hope the actual film can live up to it. This bed of death indeed eats; already I'm satisfied.

The DVD for DB:TBTE has but one "Special" feature (using the term very very loosely) and that is a video taped introduction by the film's director, George Barry, talking mostly about how this movie came to be on DVD. It was filmed mostly in 1972, but, he explained, the final print wasn't struck until 1977. He couldn't get a distribution deal for the film at all and was forced to show it on the small festival circuit and "in people's basements." Somehow, a bootleg made its way overseas where it gained the admiration of French filmmaker Jean Rollin who is known primarily for schlocky gorefests, such as 1978's The Grapes of Death (where pesticides are used on a vinyard and causes the resulting wine to turn people into zombies), hardcore pornography like 1976's Douces Penetrations (guess what that title is in English), and sometimes both, like Seduction of Amy from 1975 (where an evil count lures beautiful women to his castle, there to imprison them in his torture chamber for his amusement). Barry wears Rollin's endorsement like a badge of honor, which seemed odd to me until I saw the film. He also spoke about how he was so surprised that no one wanted to distribute the movie which also struck me as funny. Had he not seen his own movie? Eventually, the film was picked up for DVD release in 2003, a full 31 years since principle photography began. The least articulate director I've ever heard speak, Barry did give me a good context for film I was now salivating with anticipation to watch.

The film opens with chomping sounds on a black screen followed by a very 70's couple driving up to an old, deserted manor, somewhere in the world. The word "Breakfast" then appears on the screen. The couple is trying to find a secluded place to eat a picnic and bone. Lucky for them, there's this weird, creepy house. The demonic bed, which apparently also has dominion over the door locks of this house, lures them down into an unfinished basement that has a fireplace, a single painting on the wall, and the title character, a massive black and purple four-poster bed. The couple sets down on the bed and takes out their food: 2 apples, a bottle of wine, and a bucket of chicken. Then they begin making out flatly. It's pretty clear the actress was sort of repulsed by this man and couldn't even pretend otherwise. While they obliviously kiss, a yellow froth begins to bubble from the bed and the food items are sucked into it. This begins the near-endless shots in the film of whatever the bed eats being dissolved in a vat of fizzy, yellow liquid. We hear munching sounds, but the bed has no teeth or even mandibles, so what exactly is that supposed to be? At any rate, the discarded cores, bottle, and bucket are regurgitated back to the surface, seemingly unharmed. The couple decides to eat, but the food's gone. Oh well, time to bone. The skeezy man undoes the her shirt and begins very mechanically kneeding this poor girl's left breast as they kiss further. Of course, this is only temporary as they soon begin to disappear into the Death Bed itself. Screams are heard and blood pours, though from what wound? They're being dissolved. Once the couple is satisfactorily devoured, the bed makes itself (you read that right) and laughs. This is the opening of the film.

And it just gets better from there, though I won't go into detail on the rest. We have a narrator, who is a ghost that lives in/behind the painting and talks about the hated demon-bed as it came to be, which is just a masterpiece. More people come to the house to be sucked into the Mountain Dew-y innards of the bed as the narrator attempts to give more credence to the whole concept than it really deserves. At one point, we see a bottle of Pepto Bismol being emptied within the bed's digestive fluids. Astonishing. The film stars no one who ever acted in films again, with the notable exception of William Russ, who is best known as the dad on Boy Meets World. That's right, Cory's father gets his hands eaten off in Death Bed: The Bed That Eats. Anything interesting that may be introduced in this film is undercut by the wooden acting and absurd premise. George Barry's only film looks like any other film by someone who has a general knowledge of the craft but not skill to make it work. Little real gore, but lots and lots of naked women (every woman in the film is naked at one point or another) which speaks to Jean Rollin's interest in it.

So why, you ask, if this movie is as bad as I say, do I recommend everyone watch it? The answer is simple. It's fucked up. Bad movies come and go, but movies that are THIS bad must be seen by everyone. A demon-possessed bed is about as odd a scenario as has ever been thought up, but it could concievably be done with a modicum of taste or intrigue, but this is just fucked up. It's probably the most fucked up movie I've ever seen and this is why it will always hold a place in my heart. I think they need to make Death Bed into a trilogy. Part two being "Rape Stove" and part three being "Armed Robbery Dishwasher." Incidently, my mother watched this film with me and laughed harder than she's laughed in years. Uncontrollably in some places. So, it definitely gets the Tina Anderson stamp of approval. And, really what more do you need?

Talk at ya later and keep circulating the tapes.